Weekend.

I don't know about you, but I really needed the weekend after this past week.  On Friday, my coworker, Adam, and I looked at each other and said, "seriously, are we done yet?"  It was only a 4 day week but it felt like it took forever.  I was extremely happy when the end of Friday came (even though I was officially the last person to leave the building....at 7pm) and I was free to gallivant off into the distance to do god only knows what.  Side note, do you actually know the definition of gallivant?  Here is the definition, according to my computer (which, as already discussed, carries most, if not all, of the knowledge): 


gallivant |ˈgaləˌvant| verb [ intrans. ] informal
go around from one place to another in the pursuit of pleasure or entertainment : she quit her job to go gallivanting around the globe


Fascinating.  I guess this means I've been using it correctly all along.  Score one for me!  Anyway, the point I was trying to make was that the weekend came around and I did what any self-respecting 20 something would do:  I didn't get piss drunk but instead spent a lot of time eating good food and watching silly 80s movies (Some Kind of Wonderful, anyone?) and hanging with my sister and dog.  I know what you are thinking, "Woah, woah woah, 80s movies and good food?  Party animal!"  Correct.  I also got the chance to meet with the lovely Camilla on Saturday in Mill Valley, a fascinating place I'd never been in Marin County.  For those of you not from California, Marin is on the other side of the Golden Gate Bridge, just outside of San Francisco.  And let me tell you, it. is. BEAUTIFUL.  Right on the water.  Stunning stunning stunning.  I must say that as much as I do not enjoy San Francisco as a city I do appreciate that it is stunningly beautiful.  Here, for example, is a very safe (read: probably shouldn't have taken it...sorry, Mom) picture I took on the way home:

Oh, California, how you sneak up on me.

Yet Again

I should be writing for my Wednesday night sketch guys (formerly known as my Tuesday night sketch guys) but alas, all I can do is watch this...

...and listen to the Country Strong soundtrack over and over again.  I am such a girl.  But seriously, look at Garrett Hedlund's face.  Can you really blame me, blogosphere?

As a side note, I'm seriously thinking of embarking on a country music career.  Though, having grown up in California (and Northern California at that), I've only been to the South once (though it was Texas, so that's go to to count for something).  But they'll overlook that, right?  I mean, if Keith Urban can be a country music star and he's from Australia, I can too.  (Actually, thanks to the magic of wikipedia, I just found out he was born in New Zealand. NEW ZEALAND.  If a Kiwi can be a country star, so can a California girl.  Boom.  Decided.)

Meet My New Friend

Lots people I know make lists of what they would like for Christmas, diligently writing out all their desires and turning it in like some sort of self-serving homework assignment--"These are the things you are allowed to buy me."  (though surely that is a gross generalization of the entire Christmas list process and not everyone goes into it like this.  For those of you who don't, I apologize for lumping you with all the other Christmas list makers)  In the Hill house we don't do this.  I literally can't remember a time that we ever made Christmas lists.  Instead we leave most of the present-giving up to chance and the other person's knowledge of the inner workings of your soul.  All 5 of us have lived under the same roof (as adults) for a while now (much to my chagrin, as you all well know), so we know that the other people in the house like.  Typically each person gets a "Big Gift" from "Santa" and then some smaller ones from other family members and the Holiday Armadillo (as a half Catholic, half Jew (or Cashew) we receive gifts from a number of holiday mascots).  This big gift is usually a big deal--the thing you've been wanting for the entire year.  Here is where the Christmas list idea comes into play--for the Big Gift, you are encouraged to make your wants known.  My brother wants a bike, he asks for a bike...a lot.  As a 20-something adult, I have sort of abandoned the Big Gift.  I generally have all the things I want or need, so it seems a little silly for me to ask for anything.  In fact, in years past I've asked my parents to forgo gift purchases in exchange for donations to Heifer International.  Last year they gave a goat and come chickens in my name.  It was awesome.

This year was no different.  The holiday season came around and there was nothing I really wanted.  So, I didn't ask for anything, figuring that my mom would find something silly and fantastic on her own (she once gave me a dulcimer as my big gift).  And in passing I mentioned to my little sister that I wanted to buy a ukulele, never expecting to find it under the tree on Christmas morning.  But, low and behold, Christmas morning came and there, sitting under the tree, was this new friend:

I haven't decided on a name for it but isn't it just the cutest thing you've ever seen?  It is comically tiny.  Add to it my gentleman sized hands (seriously, I have huge hands.  Ask anyone) and it is just about the silliest thing you've ever seen.  And.  I.  Love.  It.  I picked it up quickly and have been happily strumming away since the 25th.  I never thought I'd play one instrument, let alone two (here I'm using the very loose interpretation of the word "play").  But here she sits, all smiley and happy.  A happy Christmas indeed.

Dream a Little Dream

Dream and Luck, taken at the Salem homestead

I have a secret.  And since a blog is just as private as a journal on your nightstand (wait...what?) I thought I'd write about it.  And maybe, just maybe, it'll unstick all the stuck thoughts in my head.  So, here's the thing....in my heart of hearts, there are two things that I'd love to do with my life:


1.  I'd love to be photographer for National Geographic.  For. Reals. Now, I'm pretty sure this would require a personality change of some kind because I'm not a huge fan of not showering for extended periods of time, but that's not important.  I'd love to travel around the world and meet interesting people and see beautiful landscapes...and then capture them on film for all the world to see.  I have serious love for that magazine.  Not only are the images just beautiful, but I love the smell of it.  I always have.  It has this old world smell, like you are opening up a little window into another place, another time.  Now, this might just be the chemicals they treat the paper with so the photos don't bleed but I don't care.  I still think it is magical.


2. (and this one is the real secret, the other one I tell people often) I want, more than anything, to be a musician.  And I'm not saying I'm not one right now, because sure, I play the guitar and I sing so that "qualifies" me as a musician but I'm talking professionally.  For dollars.  This, I must say, is a terrifying thought.  Because, unlike being an actor on stage, this is something that is soul baring.  It's you.  And an instrument.  And words that you've written.  And that's it.  No script, no one else's words.  Just. You.  Sure, I'm a performer, but there's something different about this.  Because here is where the stuck part comes into play...I can't write a song.  Ok, can't is a little strong, it's not that I can't, it is that it is extremely hard for me.  Because as soon as I start I get bogged down in the details--"the chord progression is just like _________(name an artist)", "the words are a cliche", "the tune is repetitive"...on and on and on and then POOF, I'm still staring at a blank page.  


My favorite thing in the world is to collaborate with other artists.  As an actor, as a writer, hell, as a teacher.  But to bring voices together in harmony and let the cares of the world slip away is my absolute favorite thing there is. Seriously, I love singing with other people, especially in harmony.  To me, and this may sound cliche but it is true so whatever, but to me it is like praying.  It is like tapping into something greater or touching the void.  It is, to use a favorite word of mine, magical.  And when I do it, which isn't that often anymore, I feel my heart grow and I am flooded with joy.  And this isn't to say that there aren't other things that fill me with joy.  The work that I do as a theatre educator has moments when I am overcome with this feeling.  But it is different.  As a theatre artist, one who works primarily with children in primarily non-theatre settings, there aren't as many of these moments of connection with the universe.  Certainly it happens sometimes, but those times are few and far between.  Those moments are also the thing that keeps me coming back and continuing on the path that I'm on.


My mother explained sharing your art like this:  I was talking about how playing the guitar in front of people is terrifying and nerve-wracking and she said, "You think I don't feel that way when I finish a painting?  Finishing a painting and having people see it is like pulling your pants down in the middle of a crowded room and letting everyone see every part of you."  She explained that it's not fun but you do it because, well, you have to.  (though upon reflection I don't know why anyone would have to pull their pants down in the middle of a room of people...but I still like the sentiment)  And it's true.  I sing because I have to.  I literally can't help myself.


So...there they are.  My secrets.  Out in the world.  No longer secret.  I didn't think I would, but I actually feel...better, now that they are out there.  Lighter a little bit.  So, as Josiah Bartlett would say, What's next?

Technically...

...right now I should be writing a sketch about serial killers.  Ok, not about serial killers but hinting at serial killers.  I know what you are thinking, it sounds hilarious, right?  Totally.


Alas, I am not currently writing a sketch about serial killers.  Instead, I am writing a blog post about writing a sketch about serial killers.  I. am so. meta.


I've run the numbers and it looks like I am total crap at blogging.  I don't write enough.  When I do, it is all moody or whatever.  Which I'm sure my one reader loves to see--"oh, Ashleigh's written about how she generally dislikes__________ (insert something to do with California here).  Waaah waah."  Yeah, that's lame.  Because, generally, I enjoy California.  After all, it is where I was grown.  There's no place like it in the world, one could say.  Hell, even if parts of it weren't magical, it is still the place where I lost my first tooth, learned to ride a bike and drive a car, where I have spent hours upon hours laughing until my insides hurt and my eyes leaked, where my parents live, where I have cried my eyes out, in public, on more than one occasion, where Grandpa rests, where I learned to love trees, where I found music, where I became an artist, and where I learned to love and live.  And for all these reasons (and more) it deserves my respect.  And love.  And appreciation, even when traffic on 101 makes me want to punch a baby.  


So here it is, to remind myself and hopefully to inspire you to someday visit my majestic homeland, 10 things I love about California.


1. We have trees that are thousands of years old (yes, you read that right, THOUSANDS OF YEARS OLD).

 (photo from here, though the park is in California too)

2. The Golden Gate Bridge

3. We have people who like to do this at random.  On the beach.

 4. Oh, did I mention the beach.  Yeah, THE BEACH (and implied ocean).

5. Sunsets that look like this:

 6. Places sea lions like to hang out like this:

7.  Did I mention the sunsets?

 8. I mean, If you like this sort of thing:

9. Seriously, You could see this while GOING TO PRISON.

10. Largest Plug Dome Volcano in the World.  WHAT UP.

(from here)

Now that I look at it, this list is clearly missing the people that make me love California.  But I think they are rather implied here, don't you?  I mean, who wants to look at the Largest Plug Dome Volcano alone? Not me.

Funny, that's spelled just like "escape"

Happy New Year, blogosphere!  In celebration of a) my dearest friend's arrival from NYC and b) the fact that I took a few days off, we ventured to the infamous Alcatraz Island to see what was what.  Here are a few images from the boat ride there.  San Francisco looked absolutely beautiful.

More posts coming soon.  2011 has some big things up its sleeve, I can tell already.

Neglect and a Tangent

Hi Blogfriends,


I've been putting off writing for a while because every time I sat down to do it I felt like the blogosphere was giving me one of these faces:

Irrational?  Perhaps.  I mean, the interwebs is just a collection of ones and zeros (I know, I know.  "Just?!" How dare I).  It doesn't have a face....OR DOES IT.  Seriously, I just googled "the face of the interwebs" and this is the first thing that came up.  A radio show about truckers.  Classic.


{ok, time for a tangent}
I have got to tell you, I love Google instant (the google service that predicts the word or phrase you are going to type into a search based on past searches by other Google users), and here's why: type anything, something totally benign. Now watch what happens.  Start with something simple, like "How do I..."  The beautiful thing here is that as you type it suggests things for you to search.  "How do I..." begets "How do I look."  Yes.  It is true.  People, human people, somewhere out there in the vastness of the internet, go to the Google to find out if this dress makes them look fat or if this tie makes them look like a douchebag.  


And I've got to say, I love this.  LOVE IT.  I love the idea that someone somewhere has become so dependent on their computerized devices that they ask them questions as though it were the Oracle and it carried all the knowledge.  Now, certainly I love my computer and, certainly, I know that it does carry a lot of the knowledge.  But I definitely know that it does not carry all of the knowledge.  It is, after all, simply a collection of nuts and bolts and other shiny things.  (This, by the way, does not discount the fact that I'm pretty sure my computer (or at least the Google) is smarter than me and knows what I'm thinking enough to totally creep me out and tempt me to bring out my largest scales and see if it weighs the same as a duck.)  A magical collection, yes, but a simple collection none the less.  And I'm certainly not inclined to ask if I'm having a bad hair day...yet.  Maybe one day, when I am old and grey, me and my Apple robot computer will snuggle up and have a chat sesh about love and the meaning of life, but not just yet.  I like people and their unpredictability too much to start asking a machine to pass judgement on my parachute pants.
{end tangent}


What is the point I am trying to make?  I'm not neglecting you, oh internet, I promise, though I did feel guilty for not writing for so long which made me not want to write which made me feel guilty (and on and on and on...).  I'll try to be better in the future.  Lots of fantastic photo opportunities coming up over this holiday season.  Plus, I'm finally in a semi-good place at work, so I'm in much more of a sharing mood.  Keep an eye out for new, magical things (with any luck).


Happy Holidays!